


A Confession

by Madi4713



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 11/20, Canon Compliant, M/M, November 20 Interrogation (Persona 5), emotional honesty at the worst of times, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madi4713/pseuds/Madi4713
Summary: Akira decides to use his Third Eye in the interrogation room and witnesses Akechi's speech. The detective decides that there's no point in keeping secrets from a dead man.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	A Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this WIP for months now, never really sure how to end it. Just recently I finished it up and realized, "oh shit, today's the day I gotta post it." So here we are. Hopefully it's alright.

Akira sat at the cold metal table and waited. Ever since Sae left the room, the atmosphere seemed to press down around him, a thick and heavy cloud of anxiety wrapping him in an embrace while he awaited his fate. In spite of his wounds and the mental fog created by the drugs, he had done his best to convince Sae Nijima that his cause was just. He could only hope that his mission was accomplished, and that the door in front of him would stay shut rather than be swung open by a certain detective.

A sigh escaped his lips. No matter what he tried, it seems he hadn’t managed to sway Akechi from his path. No amount of support, camaraderie, and late nights spent at Leblanc were enough to shake him from his dark path. Akira couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for him. Clearly he was working under someone, if the phone calls Futaba managed to tap were anything to go off of. And while it was hard to defend the cold, calculating words describing the staging of his murder, the thief found himself experiencing an extreme case of cognitive dissonance. Because if that was how the detective really felt, why did he seem so happy to be a part of the team? Why did he waste so much time getting to know Akira, taking him to all of his favorite places? How could that explain the excited glint in his eye when they played darts, the bright genuine smile when Akira called him out on using his non dominant hand, the wave of contentedness that seemed to wash over him whenever he sat down at the counter at Leblanc, flashing a small, grateful smile when Akira would place a cup of his favorite order down in front of him? Even after their duel, with his harsh words, there was genuine emotion there. A fire that burned behind his eyes, a roughness to his voice that was masked by his Detective Prince facade.

That voice on the phone… That felt like another mask. Something carefully crafted to place distance between himself and the situation at hand. There was something more to this.

There had to be.

His thoughts were interrupted as the world shimmered around him. He could feel something change in the air, and though he remained alone in the room, it almost seemed like another presence could be felt in the air. Akira took a deep breath to steady himself before activating his Third Eye.

The air around him seemed to ring as he watched a guard collapse on the floor. Smoke trailed into the air, billowing out from a silenced pistol held by the one person he both loved and dreaded to see.

Goro Akechi stood before him, and even with the haziness of his ability and the remnants of the drugs, he could make out every detail on his face. In the fluorescent lighting of the interrogation room, all of his features seemed sharpened. Every line in his face looked as if they were chiseled out of marble, shadows cast dramatically in the harsh light. His expression was carefully guarded, rigid in its practiced disinterest as he turned to face Akira directly. The thief noted that, despite the carefully crafted mask on the detective’s face, his eyes provided a glimpse into his mind. Deep within the pools of wine red, buried so far down that it would take a jackhammer to pry beneath the layers, was a whirl of something pained.

“I owe you for all this.. Thanks,” he said, quiet voice somehow sounding booming in Akira’s ears. He couldn’t speak, obviously, but even if he could, he probably would’ve kept his mouth clamped shut.

The detective continued, voice taking on something akin to a sneer. “That’s right. You and your little friends were vital to our plan. And now, it will be completed.” He stepped closer, and Akira inhaled sharply as the pistol was leveled directly at his forehead.

“Have you finally pieced it together?” Akechi asked in a low voice. Something seemed to change in his eyes, and a bit more of the mask cracked. “Honestly, Akira, I’m a little disappointed. All these months of our little back and forth, and here we are. I had higher expectations of you.”

Akira tried not to wince at the other’s scoff. “I must admit, I was surprised to see that the Thieves actually managed to take down the fake Medjed threat, but after that? You all fell so painfully into the trap we set. While it may have become a personal mission in the end, the Phantom Thieves bent to public opinion and pursued the target we so carefully laid out for you. Okumura fit your MO perfectly: he was a wretched business leader, treating human lives as nothing but trash to further his empire. Truly he was the perfect bait. Besides, he was already in a testy position in the grand scheme of things, and it was easier to take him down then.”

“And then, well…” a sigh escaped Akechi’s lips. “Then there was just my infiltration into the team. A little blackmail, create a bit of intrigue by mentioning the Black Mask, propose a deal… Well, you all warmed up rather quickly to the idea of cooperation.” His tone shifted into something that could almost be called wistful. “I have to say, there was something exciting about working with all of you. Moving through the Palace with you all, navigating obstacles, solving puzzles… Watching you in battle was a dazzling spectacle. You switch between masks with such practiced ease, prancing around the battlefield like a dancer, such casual grace. You act as if you have decades of experience and yet you’ve only been at this for less than a year.”

The gun lowers slightly and Akira feels his heart rate slow just a bit. A small, bitter smile creeps on Akechi’s face as he continues, “I can’t help but find myself jealous of you. You came here beaten down by society with the brand of delinquent hanging heavy on your shoulders, stigma following you wherever you go. And yet, you have made a place for yourself in Tokyo. You have friends, trusted Confidants, even a small family of people you share no blood with. Despite all odds, you manage to be happy.” His eyes are a fiery red, blazing bright as he practically growls, “How? How on earth did you do it? You bumble your way through your problems, nearly getting yourself killed at every turn, and somehow good fortune seems to follow you wherever you go. You didn’t awake to your powers alone; you had your friends with you. Hell, you even had a fucking magical guide cat to tell you exactly what to do! You never had to learn lessons the hard way: all but crawling into the rest stops of Mementos bleeding out from a wound that probably should have killed you, facing down enemies with everything you’ve got because there’s no one to cover up your mistakes, sewing up wounds yourself because you don’t have any healing spells to magically make things better…”

“Even in the real world,” he hissed, “interesting people are drawn to you like you're a weirdness magnet. Seedy airsoft shop owners who sell weapons that can be used in the Metaverse? Sketchy doctors who won’t ask questions about where you got those odd scars, handing out meds like candy? Washed up politicians that teach you public speaking skills in order to better negotiate with Shadows?” Akechi barked with sharp laughter. “Not to mention that the whole Phansite was practically handed to you! Opportunity just seems to fall into your lap while I…”

“I fought for everything I have. I had to work tirelessly in school, block out the bad situations in the institutions and the foster homes in order to get high grades and earn the respect of those around me. It wasn’t enough. I worked tirelessly as a junior detective to prove my observational skills and establish myself as someone to be listened to. No one took me seriously. I carefully managed my appearance, my interests, a food blog and a social media presence until I built myself up as a charming, sweet, friendly detective. And yet the public was so willing to turn on me the moment you all came along. It was never enough.”

“I was never enough.” His expression seemed to soften and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Except for you. Somehow… you managed to see me. In all the time we spent together, I felt like an actual human being, not just a projection of everyone’s expectations. You looked at me and didn’t see the Detective Prince, but Goro Akechi.” The gun drooped lower and his tone alluded to emotions threatening to burst through.

“When I was alone with you, I could almost forget about everything. Everything that I’ve done, everything that remains to be completed… I don’t understand. You have always been beyond my comprehension. Ever since my mother died, I have been alone in this world. No one cared about me, and yet there’s you. You, who ignites my competitive spirit. You, who can sit through a debate with me, carefully trading insights and not disregarding my opposite opinion. You, who can sit and enjoy the atmosphere of the jazz club with me as we both unwind after a stressful day. You, who serves me a cup of coffee at the end of a long day with a smile.”

He examined Akira as if taking in his injured state for the first time. His eyes were downcast and his expression was so gut wrenchingly sad. “This is an unjust end for you,” he all but whispered, as if he didn’t trust his voice not to break. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head skyward, looking like he was searching the heavens for something, anything. His voice was low and broken, and raw emotion threatened to seep in. “Just one more thing he’s ruined. Another person destroyed in the wake of his path to power. It’s too late to back down now. I’ve come too far, done too much, hurt too many to stop now.” A quiet, humorless chuckle filled the air and Akira could only stare.

“This is going to destroy me,” Akechi spoke softly, “It’s going to tear me apart from the inside, and I will have to endure because the end is so close. It’s almost finally over. Everything will finally be done so soon. I only wish… that I could’ve done something to stop you from getting here. I hoped that you all could do something, anything to escape the path you were following. You targeted too many people involved in his schemes and the moment you caught his attention, it was over. I could only watch with dread as it slowly sank in that he was going to ask me to kill you. And then he did.”

Akira felt his heart split in two as tears began to stream down the detective’s cheeks. “You have been the one good thing in my life since this whole mess started. So of course I would be asked to destroy it. I suppose it was only a matter of time. If you knew who I truly was at the beginning of this, you would never look at me so fondly. At least now you can finally see me for the monster that I am.”

He slowly raised the gun back up and placed the barrel right between the eyes of the cognition. Even if he couldn’t feel the cool steel against his temple, Akira still shivered all the same. “I really wish there was another way. If I don’t kill you, he’ll end my life before I can give him what he deserves. I can’t afford to fail. As soon as I’ve done what I need to do, I’ll… Well, I’ll make sure I can never hurt anyone ever again. I would’ve done it sooner if it didn’t mean that that bastard would win.”

Under the harsh light, with the tears flowing down his cheeks, the dark circles beneath his eyes stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. The anguish was written across his face and for once Goro Akechi stood maskless.

“Akira… I’m sorry.”

And in that moment, Akira could imagine it. He could see himself calling out Goro’s name, alerting him to his presence. He could just picture Goro’s confused face as he exits the Metaverse, staring at Akira with awe. He can imagine himself mustering up the last of his strength to throw his arms around the detective, feeling the initial hesitation before Goro reciprocates the gesture. They could leave together, and while things wouldn’t be the same, they could work it out together. It really was a beautiful thought, a nice daydream.

But that’s not what happened.

Akira could only watch as Akechi pulled the trigger. The thief was shaking, watching helplessly as the detective clamps a hand around his mouth, backing up towards the opposite wall and sliding down to the floor. The minutes passed like hours while he sat there staring. Though the light was blinding, Akira could just make out the tears streaming violently down his face. The image was slightly uncanny with Akechi’s silence. After what felt like an eternity, though probably just a few minutes, he stands up, carefully pieces his facade back together, and exits the room.

Later, after Sae returned to rescue him and removed him from the room that would haunt his nightmares, after receiving careful medical treatment from an equally exasperated and concerned Takemi, after catching up the adults on their plans, Akira listened to Akechi’s report to his boss. He heard the Phantom Thieves jeering at his almost robotic, uncaring tone, mindlessly describing his successful hit like one would speak of the weather. Despite the evidence playing before the group, he couldn’t find it in him to join in their outrage, even as the one most justified to feel anger. Because while that call might be what the Thieves heard, a different speech echoed around his skull. Amazing how one voice can sound so different across contexts. 

None of the others knew the detective like he did. They were aware that he had something to hide, but none of them saw through his masks like Akira. They didn’t know him well enough to recognize the mask over the phone. Couldn’t see the facade for what it was: a defensive measure.

Akira allowed the others to explain most of their plan to the adults, choosing instead to stay quiet. No one pushed for him to speak more than necessary; he was naturally a quiet person, and after what he went through at the hands of the interrogators, they didn’t mind giving him his space. He was thankful for the distance, as it allowed him time to think. They knew the gist of his rough treatment, of the several-hour-long interrogation from Sae. But no one knew of the detective’s confession to a dead man. The honesty that seemed so unnatural from a person so deeply entrenched in the web of his own lies. A final call for help to a person unable to do anything but watch.

Amidst the cheers of the Thieves celebrating their victory, Akira had the irrational urge to text Goro. He had a feeling that neither of them will be sleeping well tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on AO3 so I hope there are no formatting problems. I got back into fanfic near the beginning of this year, but this is my first time posting since I started again. I still have a couple of oneshots that need some work before I post them, as well as my massive WIP longfic that I'm still figuring out. I hope to start posting that around the beginning of next year. We'll see!


End file.
